In the Lap of the Gods - Fantasy Short Story
In the Lap of the Gods
Ulfric bellowed in joyful praise to the gods. Thor's mighty chariot rode the sky parting the clouds just as the sun parted the cold mists of Niflheim. Runes of fire flashed across the flanks of the chariot, drawn not by stallion or fettered mare but in the heat of fire from Freya's eyes.
Ulfric wept blissful tears knowing that Asgard was watching. He pressed his battleaxe to his forehead in salute and looked at the ranks of shield folk before him.
His great axe led the charge as a thousand Norsemen thundered across the field.
The Scottish prince sat on his chestnut mare looking to the chariot in the sky, head upturned as others cowered in fear.
"What is this devilry priest?"
He turned to look at the man, small in stature but no lesser man in facing this apparition. The priests eyes flared in wonder, sparking golden light from the suns face. Unsullied or marred by fear, free of the wash of tears that struck so many others, he proclaimed loudly for all to hear.
"Good men of England pure and true. Look on the face of Gabriel archangel resplendent in heaven's field. Lift yourself from fear and dread and behold the fanfares of her trumpet."
An almighty earth shaking rumble blasted from the apparition as the priest continued.
"Lift your swords and strap armor tight as God is my strength Gabriel proclaims in her very name. Trust in this, we will win this day."
The Scottish prince stared at this man of god, so small in stature yet great of mind and a smile spread across his face like smoke from the autumn coppice. His eyes smoldered as he lifted his sword and the army charged as one man.
Breath beating a rhythm in blood-soaked heart gladdening death song. Ulfric swung his axe while singing to the gods, tongue lolling in the crack of bone and rip of sinew, forging a path of meat to meet the prince. He spun a pirouette around a pikeman's lazy thrust, cutting his calves with the axe on a downswing only to slash the face of a knight on the upthrust. This one was in full plate, he smashed the knight in the back toppling him like a tree and called for his guard to finish him off.
Suddenly the prince's horse spurred toward him and he crouched low diving into a roll as he passed, taking a ringing blow to his ribs. He came up out of the roll to see his brother Sigurd impale the princes rearing horse with the pikeman's discarded weapon. Sigurd screamed his blood lust to Thor.
The prince toppled to the ground and Ulfric pounced on him knife in hand twisting it into his throat at the seam of plate and helmet. A death rattle escaped his lips as Ulfric drank from the fountain of blood spurting from the princes jugular. Battle lust took him fully, and he howled like a wolf gazing up to the sky arms upraised to Thor's chariot.
White light enveloped him. Flaring from the base of Thor's chariot and spreading out to engulf the world and draw him up to Asgard.
The priest stared in horror at the devil clothed in man's skin, arms upraised in howling salute to his heathen all father. Heavenly light flared in the sky and everything opened out into the bright absolute of almighty god.
Ulfric gazed around at the English knights and Norsemen standing all together in empty halls of luminous white. Unhorsed, unclothed and without weapons, they all stood there in silence as the gods emerged from the mist.
The end.
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